


Shore Leave

by Rigel99



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, M/M, Pre-James Bond/Q, Romance, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigel99/pseuds/Rigel99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkJediQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkJediQueen/gifts).



“Christ, I’m fucking knackered. One day off in two months? The Captain is a fucking stone-cold bastard.”

Alec - ever the stamina king - slapped James good-naturedly on the back, and was practically bouncing up the gang plank from the USS Enterprise by his side like an excited puppy. “A few vodkas and a good lay to sort that out, my brat!”

“A few vodkas and a soft mattress sans any other warm body will be more than adequate, thanks.”

“I’ll have you lying back and thinking of England in no time!”

Bond let his eyes close and his head roll forward at the thought of falling asleep while getting a blow job from some poor unfortunate lass in this port of call.

But shoved his hands into his trenchcoat and followed his friend nonetheless.

* * *

“So, krasivaya, what time do you finish making this dive looking like a diamond in the turf?”

“It’s rough, Alec. Diamond in the rough,” said Bond helpfully. The redhead smiled. “You are both so cute…,” she smiled while pouring a beer for a nearby customer.

Alec scoffed and waved his hand while James smirked into his drink. “Ignore him darling. He has all the stamina of a tortoise in a coma. Let me take you home.” She turned away to continue her service. _Soon,_ she mouthed at Alec as she turned away. He grinned broadly, knocking back his vodka. “That’s me sorted. Now. For you, my Scottish lightweight,” he clapped his hands together while scanning the room for a likely candidate to pair with James.

It was then, that Christiania’s replacement for the night shift walked into bar.

Bond had only been with two men in his life. He was fundamentally straight though a little bi-curious were he completely honest with himself.

“Hey Q baby!” she gushed. “You’re early.” Bond sipped his vodka while watching the younger man shirk off his coat and stroll behind the bar. In the meantime, Alec was watching James, watching the new arrival.

“I was feeling generous, Chris.” British then, and a voice that could melt frozen butter. “Good day at the office,” he said with a tight-lipped smile.

“Nice suspenders.” Bond was in fact imagining that lean body suspended above him. He might just stay awake long enough to enjoy that sight. Q looked over at the customer then in narrow-eyed assessment. “The customer is always right so who am I to disagree?” He flung back with a flick of a hand through a mess of inviting waves.

Christiania parked herself on a stool beside Alec and knocked back the brandy she had poured for herself. “Nostrovya!” she said. The appreciative glint in Alec’s eye sparkled with anticipation. “I like you…,” Alec rumbled, leaning into her.

Christiana looked over at her fellow barkeep. “So. It WAS a good day at the office then?” she enquired.

“Wonderful,” replied Q. “My computer programming Professor thinks I’ll do anything for a pass…”

“Little does he know…” she said. Q just smiled.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Alec asked. Christiana stood. “Q. Alec. Alec. Q. Let’s shake some legs, you Russian beefcake,” she said abruptly, grabbing his hand. Alec looked over at James. “Q. James. James. Q.See you in the morning,” Alec said with a wave and a shoulder shrug as he was dragged unresisting through the exit.

Q just shook his head with a knowing smile while racking the remainder of the glasses drying by the sink. He served one customer before glancing up the counter towards Bond’s glass and pitched up in front of him, looking him in the eye for the first time - finally - since he’d entered the bar.

“What can I get you?” Q said under the most scrutinuous gaze of which he’d ever been on the receiving end.

“Vodka. Neat,” Bond gruffed.

Q turned away to pour the liquid and could feel the weight of the man’s gaze on his neck, back and…

He turned back to place the glass firmly in front of him, determined not to be intimidated. He was used to appraisal. Working in such an environment made it impossible to avoid. As such, he had to own it.

He was about to ask for the money when Bond said, “And your home address, key and ETA after you get off work,” he said smoothly.

Now _that_ was something he’d never been on the receiving end of before.

“That’s borderline harassment and if you don’t behave I’ll have Leon toss you out on your ear.”

Bond being Bond however, did not miss the keen appraisal to which he was being subjected behind the words.

“What? That chunk of beef guarding the door?” he smiled into his drink. “I’ve taken on worse and gotten the better of them.”

“Well then. I think you just answered your own demand there. I’m not in the habit of taking home strange men prone to violence,” Q said, turning away to serve another customer.

When he turned back to throw the man his finest withering glance, he noticed, surprisingly disappointed, he was gone.

* * *

It was a short shift for Q - thankfully - as he had classes first thing. As he bid the bouncer goodnight, he pulled on his parka and headed down the road towards the taxi rank. It was only 3 miles to his flat but it had been a long day and he was in no mood for braving the midnight streets.

Ten minutes later, standing outside his door fumbling in his bag for his key, he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Fancy meeting you here…”

Q turned around, disbelief clearly on his face. Bond looked on unperturbed, as though stalking a man home to his front door was the most ordinary of behaviours, and that in itself was worrying.

“Did you _follow me home?”_

Bond shrugged. “Now that I’m here you may as well invite me up, don’t you think?”

“No, actually. I don’t,” he said, pushing through the door and slamming it behind him. Bond frowned at the door. The lad was certainly proving a challenge and a worthwhile distraction from his restless, pent up exhaustion.

Bond wasn’t exactly the kind to take no for an answer. He waited.

He was rewarded ten minutes later with the appearance of a woman, slightly tipsy, rolling out the door chatting on her phone, informing her friends she would “be there in 15 minutes.” Bond sauntered casually up the steps and caught the door just before it swung shut.

Checking the postboxes, he located the only tenant with a surname beginning with Q and climbed the flight of stairs,fishing out his wallet to remove what he needed. Picking the lock swiftly he entered Q’s apartment, not really knowing what to expected so expecting anything.

He smiled as he heard the shower from behind one of the doors in the hallway and located the bedroom. He undressed with unhurried ease, and sat on the bed, reclining back with the intention of waiting for the young man to appear, only to succumb to sleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Bond first became aware of the slight twinge in his shoulder, swiftly followed by the awareness of the tight hold around his wrists. He raised his head from the pillow and through bleary eyes saw a slender, pyjama-clad body sitting at the bottom of the bed.

Bond relaxed. Fighting against his position would be futile.

“Not a very nice way to treat a guest now, is it?”

Q’s jaw twitched. Bond reckoned in an effort to not let it drop at his sheer audacity.

“The problem being, I haven’t guessed what you are yet, Mr….?”

“Bond. But you can call me James.”

“You seem very calm despite your position. I could be an axe murderer and yet you chose to break into my home and help yourself to my side of the bed no less?”

“Well if you unlock these cuffs, I’d be more than happy to shuffle over.”

Q allowed his eyes to roam over the body of the man before returning to meet a questioning, cocky and overly confident look.

“I’ll think about it,” came the response, Q standing from the bed to walk casually from the bedroom.

“Take your time,” replied Bond with a smile. “I’ve got all night. Apparently,” he mumbled, flexing his wrists once more.

But Bond was patient. He knew he would win.

He always did.


	2. Chapter 2

James didn’t have to wait long for Q to reappear. He leaned against the bedroom door, one hand on his hip while the other casually brushed his teeth.

“Oh well, now my optimism levels for how the rest of the night is going to pan out have been raised exponentially,”Bond said smoothly.

Q paused in his movements and took the brush from his mouth. “Are you always so fucking cocksure of yourself?”

“Always.”

Q gave him a withering look (which Bond completely took as a come on and a promise) and turned back towards the bathroom.

When he reappeared - stark bollock naked - and climbed onto Bond, the older man kept his counsel. There was a lot to be said when nothing need be said at all, and times like these, Bond liked to let his body do the talking. The earlier promise was become a reality faster than he thought it would. Bluffs were being called, stakes were being raised. Bond fleetingly wondered if he’d finally met his counterpoint in the shape of this lithe and wanton looking boy.

“What do you do?” Q asked, allowing his naked form coming to rest lightly on Bond’s strong thighs.

“I serve in the Forces. Navy specifically.”

“Above or below the surface?”

“Below.”

Q removed his glasses and put them to the side, his erection well on its way to full mast, brushed against that of Bond’s as he returned to his position.

“That must get lonely.”

“I make do,” Bond said with a shrug.

“Why me?” Q’s tone edged with curiosity, giving Bond the sense that he knew he wasn’t gay and only very occasionally exploratory on that side of things.

“Why not?” countered Bond, shifting his hips beneath him and bending his knees to tip the young man forward. Q allowed the move, bracing his forearms against Bond’s chest to maintain a little distance between them.

“So how long do I get to keep you tied to my bed?” Q asked, allowing his fingers to gently brush the length of Bond’s collarbone. He finally met his eyes and Bond recognised the desire echoing his own.

“Our shore leave is 48 hours,” he murmured quietly, all too aware that Q had slid a couple of inches further up his body, bringing their lips into tantalising proximity.

Ever patient, Bond waited.

“I’m not sure I’m creative enough to keep you entertained for that long,” Q whispered.

“Well, I get the rather distinct feeling that were we to put both our heads together, we’d surely be able to concoct a plan of —“ 

Bond didn’t usually like interruptions. But seeing as this one had a soft, warm tongue seeking imploringly past his own lips, he thought he’d let the interruption slide.

Just this once.

What the hell. Maybe twice.


End file.
